Ā Ā Orochimaru continues to HISS their taunts and jeers, and slowly does the Priest begin to pivot his gaze and body to face them once more. Something has shifted within his eyes ; they were darkened, smouldering even deeper than before. No longer were they a piqued regal violet - rather a VAST, BALLISTIC plum. Interjecting, Hidan begins to prowl back toward them, eerily calm in his outrage.
Ā Ā Once close enough, a large palm comes to rest against the flat of the throneās headrest beside the Serpentās head, pinning themĀ BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA. He looms over - borderline into - the slender form seated beneath him, portraying mannerisms of domination and intimidation. Much like they had, Hidanās eyes scour to regard the other, only his leer is rooted in disgust, not admiration.Ā
Ā Ā ā Of course, there are other methods of killing you,Ā ā he begins, scowl sharpening to a debaucherous grin,Ā ā You wouldnāt be worthy of being sacrificed to Lord Jashin anyhow. Youāre already fuckingĀ dead. ā To punctuate his words the Reaper springs backward to a standing position, looking down their nose at the other.Ā
They watch him in curiousity, pleased with every step he takes towards their person. They would take the crown indeed, elated to get a rise out of the other immortal. Enjoying the stance he takes of physically dominating them. He does dwarf their figure somewhat, he does have more weight to throw around. If physical appearances were what someone judged this scene on alone, it would appear the serpent overstepped. That they were about to be subdud and forced into submission upon biting off more than they can chew.Ā
But physical prowess is not the viperās weapon. It is their sharp mind, and an excessive amount of hard work in the hands of someone already born talented. His hand slams down beside their head, he leans forward to leer above them. He sweeps their figure with his crimson eyes, a shimmer of a ruby, or a splash of blood, they canāt tell what that gaze reminds them more of. But his words evoke challenge. They are happy to play along.
A hand rests on the arm he places like a bar to keep them trapped to the throne. An elegant motion, and they have slipped out from his cage like postioning, before they speak,Ā āif Iām not a god, then name a shinobi who has taken their mortal life and multiplied it for centuries at a time. Tell me what shinobi has stepped out of the reaper land without the mark of death. Tell me what shinobi has pulled others from graves, who has made puppets of the dead, and servants of the living. I offer power, I demand sacrifice, and I defy natures norm. What more is there to godhood?ā they ask, before they turn to look at Hidan.
A smile rises to their lips, as they place a hand to their hip to casually rest it there,Ā āI have seen greater empires than yours fall to ruin. A clever leader builds his kingdom to be strong. A wiser one knows that will never be enough.āĀ
That is when serpents would reach out as if from thin air, winding around Hidan, forcing him to be pinned to his throne. Tangling around him like writhing rope, biting into flesh and winding tightly, hissing in excitement. Orochimaru once more sits on the armrest of his throne, their elbow leaning on his shoulder as if the two of them are close friends, and the serpent is welcome to use Hidan as a comfortable support for their sylphlike figure. Well aware how much it would annoy him to be touched by their godless person. They lean down to speak into his ear,Ā ālet me show you what becomes of men in the presence of a true immortal.ā they mutter, the door to his throne room opening by the sudden appearance of wind. Elements bending to the serpents command. Hidan, strapped to his own throne, would be able to gaze out. His followers lay limp, strewn and tattered, bodies upon bodies, enough death to look like a war ground. So akin to the Second War, in fact.
The life of his shinobi were put out like a flame, but that is not the only part of the show the serpent wants to display, āmy blood can be spilled just like yours, just like theirs,ā they say, gesturing to the massacre of bodies, āor it can be a poison that would snuff the life of anyone who spilled it. It is what I decide it to be. I am my own creation. That, my dearest, is what it means to be a god.ā they say, before a smirk rises to their lips, and they extend their hand towards the piles of bodies stretching out beyond the eyes scope. Like a witch might conjure a spirit, the necromancer that haunts this king raises the dead before them. Shinobi made of cracked skin with hollow eyes begin to stand, one by one, group by group. The march of the dead begins to approach Hidan, their once Lord - until they became mere puppets of the viper.
āArrogance can cost you just as much as weakness can. Perhaps you do not fear death, perhaps neither do they. But even you must know that there are worse fates than death. Why, it can be a mercy, it is an escape. But you? Well you have no escape, now do you?ā they say, slipping off his chair as the hoards of living dead descend upon the immortal king. Each one looking for skin to tear into. Now not only serpents pin him, but the viperās blade in the hand of a puppet drives through his abdomen to pin him to stone like a butterfly is pinned as art. But the genjutsu then breaks, and Hidan would once more be glowering down at the serpent who he has pinned with his arms on either side of their head. Looking at them still seated comfortably in his throne. There would be no deceased followers littering his kingdom, no tears in his flesh where his own shinobi tried to rip him a part. Perhaps phantom pains, if he can not shake them, perhaps dizziness, if his body is in shock due to believing the mind, perhaps a headache, because it takes a toll.
The viper chuckles,Ā āI carry a kill count of a dozen armies. What makes you think I need to hide behind one?ā
